


morning demands

by sonia (aquatulip)



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Gen, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 04:50:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5443913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquatulip/pseuds/sonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>genocider just happens to be a morning person and hagakure can't quite keep up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	morning demands

you feel something wet and altogether unpleasant when you start to turn over groggily to check the time on your phone. instead of letting yourself wake up slowly and relishing the slumber still in your limbs, your eyes fly open and your hands are fumbling to distance yourself from the wetness. “the fuck…” your voice is gruff and sleep-laden.

the situation you find yourself in is one that you should be more familiar with as a married man. drool is admittedly a common substance shared on your pillows as you both happen to be haphazard slumberers, but the source of the drool this time is the tongue on the side of your face, “heya,” says the lackadaisical voice and you groan, flopping down on your back and pushing your companion away with a stray arm.

“time to sleep,” you whine, trying to pull the blanket up over your face so you can effectively wipe the drool off with something other than your pillow or your shirt. “goodnight, gens. ya can wake me when there’s a disaster of some sort.”

genocider opens their mouth. “-- killing someone isn’t a disaster anymore. unless you need to hit the road.” you mumble and turn into your back is facing them. now you are grumbling to yourself, upset that you were awoken by genocider drool. you don’t see genocider close their mouth or feel them move, but suddenly they have slunk their arms around your midsection.

“that’s noooooo way to treat your wife-y, haga-pyon!” they more-or-less screech into the crook of your neck and you decide that this might be the least romantic moment you could ever have in bed. especially with genocider’s toes digging into your calves. “get up ‘n make me breakfast!” it is a command, but with genocider’s arms wrapped so tightly around your midsection, you don’t think you could get up if you tried. that is, without knocking them off the bed.

“didn’t think i kissed you on the altar, i think i’d’ve remembered your tongue.” genocider’s muffled laughter tickles the back of your neck and you cringe away from them. “stop that!” you bat them away unsuccessfully as they grip onto you tighter.

when you stop struggling there’s a moment of silence that feels charged with an unknown energy, but then you feel their tongue on the back of your neck and you are fumbling to get away from them. instead of doing anything productive or getting to sleep a couple extra hours, both of you topple off the bed and onto the floor where genocider begins cackling atop you.

“off’a me,” you huff, out of breath. “get off’a me.”

they are clutching their stomach now, shaking with laughter; your back aches from the impact, but this isn’t necessarily the first time this has happened. you are clumsy enough as it is, but now with genocider on top of you, you are finding it hard to breathe. “now, now, haga-pyon,” they wipe tears out of the corners of their eyes, “have some fuuuuuuun!” you roll your eyes and reach a hand up to check to see if your hair is still mostly contained in the ponytail. when you find that it is, you try to sit up and effectively knock genocider off of your lap. “breakfast?” they tilt their head while on the floor; it is an innocent gesture that softens you.

genocider smirks when they notice that they were successful. “what do you even want?” you ask, rubbing your neck sheepishly, trying to keep the edge in your voice, but failing as you find yourself mostly awake now. this has become something of a common occurrence now. although there have been less murdering, there has still been plenty genocider antics around the house. this is almost like the time when you discovered the reptile room that genocider had been building in the basement. at the time of construction, you had no clue that anything was going on, but when you had caught genocider with a poisonous snake, you realized that you had a problem on your hands.

“breakfast, ass, i already told you,” they say pointedly, but with no actual heat. they look bored if anything. you shake your head as you stand up and make you way into the kitchen.

the cool air hits you when you walk in and you wish that you could go back to bed. the digital clock on the microwave reads 6:00 and it is still somewhat dark outside. the heavy pattering of feet following after you tells you that genocider is going to be kind enough to keep you company while you are cooking food for them. how thoughtful, you think wryly as you reach to get a pan that’s hanging overhead.

“whatcha gonna cook?” genocider pipes up as soon as the pan is off the hook. “is it gonna be fucking shit like dinner the other night?” they are peering into the fridge as you are turning the burner on.

“you could always heat up a frozen meal if ya hate my cooking so much,” you tell them as you move to push them away from the fridge so you can dig your ingredients out of the fridge. you know that you would never force genocider to eat anything frozen, but you can’t help to watch their look of disgust at the prospect of giving up the months of cooked dinners. ever since fukawa had moved in with you, you had been making it a point to cook every night. fukawa didn’t always eat, but when she did it was typically healthy foods.

it takes only seconds for genocider to recover,” so whatcha cooking? sausages?” they chuckle to their self as they watch the food sizzle in the pan. after a minute, they start to slink across the room. they move lazily, but in a very chaotic way. you find yourself watching them for a moment before you close your eyes. “sausages always remind of hifumin. all greasy, sweaty and red.” they laugh darkly and you wonder how in the world someone can be a night owl and a morning bird. to you, it really just seems like genocider enjoys living and you think it must be tiring to be so excitable and full of conversation.

“i think i’ve lost my appetite,” you say into the pan as you poke the meat with a fork. “i don’t think i want to eat yamadacchi.”

quickly, as though they were ready to pounce, genocider is cackling again, “don’t think anyone wants to eat hifumin! -- but, i still want the sausages,” they cool off just as quickly and hop onto the counter to watch you as you bustle around the kitchen. you get the carton of egg whites out of the fridge and reach to get another pan to fix rolled scrambled eggs.

the silence is welcoming and you are able to almost finish breakfast, but then comes genocider’s voice. whatever they had found to keep them accompanied had suddenly ceased in being interesting. “glad gloomy decided t’get a manservant,” they snorted. “ya come in handy.”

you snort in response, “i can’t wait until she gets a muzzle for you.” shaking your head, you start to make their plate and then go to make coffee for yourself. it is way too early for you to be allowing genocider syo to make you want to stand on your head for hours. you find a soft spot in your heart for them, but at the same time, you hold a grudge for all the lost hours that could have been spent sleeping in. all those hours that genocider had stolen by waking you up way before you needed to wake up. “y’know, toukocchi can stay up all night writing and not wake me up at the asscrack of dawn, but you don’t hesitate to wake me up without giving a fuck.”

“ya,” genocider takes their plate and moves to sit on top of the dining room table. “what can i say, gloomy ‘n i are different, plus writing’s boring shit. bothering you is kinda fun at least.” they shrug, “pluuuuus free food ‘n i’m starvin.” 

they eat as though they haven’t eaten in a couple days and their plate has been licked clean before you have even poured your first cup of coffee. as you watch the coffee pot, you wonder if you could try to get genocider to go back to bed now that their hunger was sated, but when genocider leaves their plate abandoned on the table to instead climb onto your back, you know that that’ll never happen. not unless you get them to murder you, otherwise you aren’t sleeping.

shifting their weight a little, you cock your head to the side. “how about this, ya call up sonia ‘n have her take you out somewhere this mornin and i go back to bed?”

genocider huffs against your back. “caaaaan’t, ass. she’s in novoselic. don’t cha ever listen t’me?” they take your chin in their hands, ignoring the sharp press of stumble against their fingers. “she’ll be there for the rest of the week ‘n maybe longer!” their forehead knocks against the side of your head and you immediately rub at the skin.

“hey!” you call, but they just guffaw. “maybe you could call makotocchi?”

they deadpan at this point. “stop tryin’ get ridda me, haga-pyon. it’s our special day in! we haven’t had one’ve those in awhile! grab the popcorn ‘n blankets!”

the little bit of color in your face fades and you shake your head, but genocider grips onto your hair. “ya! yaaaaa! i got a new collection o’ movies to watch ‘n i’m not gonna be satisfied unless we watch ‘em all!”

you groan in response, but begrudgingly enter the living room where genocider hops off your back and proceeds to start up the dvd player. you shiver at the thought of how long you are going to be spending in front of the television while gory horror movies play across the screen. you feel as a replacement for sonia, but instead of cheering and discussing mechanics of the film, you are hiding behind blankets and searching for reasons to leave the room.

“let’s start with this one…” genocider smirks.  
and you gulp in trepidation.


End file.
